The good news is it’s so hot, that everyone walks around dressed in very little clothing. A sweating French editor showed up at my house wearing a suit jacket, long sleeve shirt, black pants and cowboy boots. Suicide clothes. He said, “A European man doesn’t go out in a t shirt or shorts”. This is not the case in New York.

Girls put away their bras, sweaters and big coats and bring out the tank tops and mini skirts. Every patch of grass becomes a beach. People think nothing of stripping down to next to nothing and flopping down in the dirt to work on their tans. Every park is filled with women in thongs sunning their ass cracks and guys in Speedos scratching their balls.

Once a day, my girlfriend and I put on our bathing suits, grab towels and walk a few blocks to the pool. No one says anything. Everyone knows it’s hot. The pool is a big, block long bathtub filled with people from all walks of life, equalized because you can’t hide anything when you’re in a wet bathing suit.

Walking down the street is a voyeur’s dream. Down the block, I see a girl and immediately judge her age, shape and how much jiggle action is going on with her chest. If nothing catches my eye, I move on to the next one. I live in a crappy neighborhood but within two blocks of my house I’ve usually seen some young unbound tits or ass meat bouncing around in thin material. There seems to be a secret contest going on between women to see how much skin they can show.

Even if a woman is fully clothed, she’ll be wearing sandals, wedgies, open-toe high heels or flip-flops because it’s warm. To someone who likes feet, seeing a woman’s feet is like seeing her boobs. When I’m riding on the subway I’m scanning the floor looking for buried treasures. Just today, I was admiring the big tan thighs and painted toes of a pretty blond Ukrainian woman in her late 20’s on the F train.

Occasionally I’m inspired enough to get out the camera phone or my tiny digital camera and sneak a shot. This kind of photography is more satisfying than the kind of stuff I do for a living. It’s as if the woman is putting on a free private show for me.

Men develop elaborate schemes to catch these little exhibits. “Am I reading the paper?” “Why, no, Miss. My eyes seem to be focused on this paper but in fact, they are looking right up your skirt.” One of my favorite things to do is walk behind a good-looking woman and watch every guy she passes check her out. This happens all the time when I’m with my girlfriend. She never wears a bra and always wears tiny skirts. Heads turn when we walk by but I’m invisible. She’s oblivious to all this. Or is she?